The porter came up to Shayne with a wide grin on his face and, panting, handed him the Gladstone.

“I was mighty lucky, boss. Yours was loaded on last, right there where I could lay my hands on it.”

Shayne nodded absently and took the promised bill from his wallet for the Negro, his gray eyes riveted on the plane disappearing swiftly into the misty moonlight beyond the range of the floodlights atop the tower.

When the porter went away, Shayne stood very still, his bleak gaze still watching the plane. There was futile emptiness inside him as the colorful lights rose and climbed higher and higher toward the sky. It wasn’t so much the thought of Lucy running out on him, he thought morosely, as the fact that he had made a fool of himself. Standing in the Miami air terminal with no reason whatsoever for being there, he swore softly under his breath.

The New Orleans episode was over. That was very clear to him now. He convinced himself that he was glad he had been able to do Parson a favor, and he wasn’t at all sure that the little pasty-faced man had not also done him a favor in return. If Lucy couldn’t understand that a man sometimes gets caught up in a tangle he can’t get out of-if she didn’t have enough loyalty to carry on for a few days-A few days! He suddenly realized that it had been months since he had been in New Orleans.

He said aloud, “To hell with it,” picked up his suitcase, and strode back into the terminal building.

Chapter Two

BIG BLONDE

As Shayne came in from the rear, a woman entered the front door with a free-swinging, masculine stride. She caught his eye at once because she was statuesquely and lushly blonde, and because she carried her liquor superbly.

She stopped just inside and stood flatly with her feet planted apart a trifle, swaying ever so slightly while her head turned slowly in an arc to study every person in the waiting-room.